Up
by TheKats
Summary: He lifts her up in his arms, violently kissing her, taking her up, up into the darkness. "...somewhere in her mind a voice was screaming, wondering why the hell she ever forced him move out of her bedroom."
1. Chapter 1

_A/N Wow, I have return to my fanfiction after perhaps five years. It's been a while, a time full with writing original stories and publishing a novel of my own._

 _But, there is this one huge thing called Gone With The Wind which lingers with me still; a month ago I finally got my own copy of the book and finished it today. JFC, it's been 13 years since I've first read it and now I feel as sad and as broken after the first time I read it, although now I see the characters clearer (Rhett for example)._

 _I don't own any of the characters, they belong to the genius talented writer that is Ms. Margaret Mitchel._

 _I have written one GWTW fic, and this is my second one, five years later, sort of a pain killer for all the feelings it still gives me (perhaps for my entire life)._

 _It's about "that night" after Ashley's birthday._

 _Enjoy._

* * *

 _"...Somehow, her arms were around his neck and her lips trembling beneath his and they were going up, up into the darkness again, a darkness that was soft and swirling and all enveloping..."_

When or how he closed the door with her in his arms, she didn't know, for he was kissing her almost too violently now and she was kissing him back, not aware of anything, her old life, her future, her children, the sawmills, her former husbands and their inadequate ways, the virtues she believed she had, her decision to never let him in her bed ever again nor have any more children.

All that existed was only his broad shoulders and his strong muscular arms and fingers that were digging into her flesh and her pounding heart that was almost deafening. All that existed was this hungry kissing and him breathing in her breath, his trembling, and her need and urge for everything that he was offering.

She was now laying on her soft bed, with her husband above her, a huge, dark shadow that was shielding her from everything, including her own dangerous mind. Her husband, who even sufficiently intoxicated, had skillful hands that were removing the wrapper completely not carefully like before, exposing her with nothing but the sheer silk nightgown that wasn't covering much, that wasn't covering anything.

His hands were everywhere and her body was waking up like never before, not even in their most intimate moments on their honeymoon when he was so gently passionate when he was kissing and licking her skin inch by inch, as if he was tasting the most delicious food, as if he was afraid won't last forever.

No, this kissing and this touching weren't even nearly as gentle as that one. Not once did she regret sleeping with him, because his arms felt soothing, passionate, carrying, skillful and very safe. Nothing bad could have ever happen to her when she was in his arms. Nothing bad, because they were strong and large enough to protect her from anything or anyone, that meant to harm her.

No, she never regret it even when she found out that she was with a child, although the thought of having her body going through that change infuriated her later.

Now, now it was something else. What was it? It wasn't for a woman, a wife to feel this need, this craving, wanton for her husband. No true lady was supposed to feel anything like that, let alone enjoy the savagery passion the drunken husband was giving to her, while kissing her deeply, almost taking her breath away, not giving her time to come to air.

Now, she was not lying there semi-guilty enjoying the sweet sensation his lips and hands were giving to her, like before. No, there wasn't any feel of guilt as if she was cheating on Ashley. The hell with him, he wasn't even coming to her mind, not once, like he used to when she had her first wedding nights with Charles and Frank.

Funny how he didn't come up to her mind even after she said 'I do' to Rhett that night.

Now, she was gripping his strong neck with her small hands, kissing him back as hungrily, as violently and as desperately, without even being aware, without even knowing how much she wanted this man and his force, his power and the weight of his body. It seemed that her response was waking the beast inside him even more. His sharp inhaling as he was capturing her mouth and tongue were making her feel as if her heart was about to explode in her rib cage.

And oh, when his lips and tongue have lost their track from her lips to her neck, right on her pulse, nibbling stronger than ever, trailing down to her chest and burning her skin like fire. And oh, when his thumb have rubbed her lower lip, letting her bite it, as he was sinking his teeth deeper into her soft skin, making her arch her back and press herself as close to his chest as possible.

As his hands were lifting the nightgown up to her waist, and as she heard herself moaning and loud, the rhythm became even faster, even more consuming, even more burning and savage.

Oh dear god, she never wanted this to stop.

' _And by someone who knows how_ ' was all her troubled mind could ring and ring as she was letting her body open for her husband's warmth and force she wasn't even able to imagine he had.

And there in the dim light of her candle lit bedroom, he suddenly rose from above her, stood up straight on his feet, staring at her semi-nude, with long wild black curls spread all over the bed, breathing heavily and as if though she was woken from a dream she didn't want to be waken up from.

His muscular chests were lifting up and down, up and down, as if he run for miles, unable to catch a breath.

Looking up at him he looked huge, dark figure, a man, protective and passionate, safe and hot like the Georgian sun and she had no intention to protect herself from the burning rays, a man so larger than life that was now shivering because of her? No, she can't think about that now, she'll think about it tomorrow. Now, now was not time for that. Now wasn't.

The curtains of her bed were loose and she could only see his silhouette and his heavy breathing, almost panting.

Confused, he stood there, like he was just woken up from a spell.

"I'm sorry…" he said with deep, low voice.

What? Why he was apologizing, what was this? She stared at him, lifting herself on her elbows, not wanting to hear any more of his words.

"This isn't how…"

But before he was able to finish the sentence, Scarlett jumped on her knees, crossed the bed like that to him and stood for a split second, trying to see his face in the darkness. She wasn't able to; she no longer wanted to see it.

Instead she put her hands on his neck, and pressed all her weight on him and he was able to hold it. She started kissing him, gently and fiery, not like she used to do to with any of her beaus, not like she kissed Ashley Wilkes, with her mouth closed and only brushing her lips on his.

No, she kissed him deeply, as if she was thirsty for her whole life and he was a sweet, fresh mountain creek. Deep kissing, that's how it was always done with him, even in those times when she didn't think she could or want to let him kiss her like that.

Suddenly, his hands were on her waist, urgently lifting the night gown again, and it seemed like he again was swept off by a darkness and wind so strong that made him forget whatever he was thinking just a second before.

He was again digging his fingers in her flesh, pressing her waist tightly to his chest until they both fell on the bed.

Now, she was the one who was leading the kiss. She was not waiting for him to initiate anything like before - she wrapped her legs around his waist, squeezing hard in order to feel the strength that was about to wear her off.

Nothing else mattered. Was she drunk too? Perhaps. But it didn't matter, because it was only now that she started feeling how her blood was circulating healthily through her body, warming, melting the cold shield that had formed around her heart.

The last thing she heard before feeling her husband's skin completely pressed on hers was was a deep husky voice telling her, installing the fact in her brain - "You are mine! Never forget that!"

The electrifying sensations that were driving her body mad were not letting her think or speak, although somewhere in the back of her mind a voice was screaming, wondering why the hell she ever forced him to move out of her bedroom.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N I had no intention to continue this story, it was a oneshot in my head, but I changed my mind and your reviews encouraged me. Thank you for spending time to read it.

It wasn't even dawn when he opened his eyes, feeling a little sobered from the short sleep. The brandy was still making his head unclear and felt as if his brain was rolling around his head, perhaps even harsher than ever before.

He was a man capable of holding his liquor even after many glasses, but last night, or rather only a few hours ago, was something else. He barely ate that afternoon and didn't take a single bite of the food at the party. He didn't even drink there, just holding the glass when they were toasting for Ashley's health and life.

God, how he hated that pale, lifeless creature; he only realized that that night. He was jealous of him, a decent, well-educated gentleman, so lost, so sad and so hopelessly cut in two from his physical desire for Scarlett and his pure emotions for his wife.

Whenever he'd have seen her before or during the war, Captain Butler enjoyed teasing her and mocking her childish obsession with Ashley. It didn't hurt back then, because Rhett Butler was a man who was dedicated to fulfill his goals and desires, and no man, especially not the type of man Ashley Wilkes was, was capable to stand on his way. Sometimes he was even enjoying infuriating her just by purposely mocking him.

He didn't care about Ashley, he was trying to convince himself, about her being in love with him, believing, feeling that whenever the two of them were together, even before ever anything happened, there was something in the air, electrifying and consuming that was shaking his core like never before. Oh he knew that there was something burning in her, he was aware deep in his stomach and he was able to feel it every time he'd have kissed her.

If someone would have told the great Captain Butler that he will lose his head over a sixteen-year-old flirt with cat eyes and sharp mouth, he'd laughed. The only thing he thought was happening to him was pure physical attraction to a young body, provocative eyes, small and lustful lips and the smallest waist he had ever seen. It must have been only that, he was telling himself, although he damn well knew, he waited for her to grow up a little bit. Her sharp-mouth, determination, selfishness and complete dedication to get what she wanted was just adding for the thrill for him. Even now, after ten years he could have vividly remember how his blood boiled when his eyes took her in that pale green dress and her intentional swing of the skirt.

Rhett Butler never paid so much attention to any woman, he never bothered to go back and forth, give gifts, tease and stay longer than usual in the presence of any woman. If he wanted physical release he knew where to go. New Orleans was heaven for men who didn't want to bother with marriage or who wanted a little looser party out of their cold beds.

But this…

She was now wearing a ring he gave her (a ring whose making made him stay in London for two more months), delivered a child of his, a child he worshiped, and was sleeping next to him, completely oblivious that he was awake.

His back hurt from her nails, digging and scratching as he was senselessly thirsting in and out of her.

He remembered what he did, how he pushed her down the chair, told her many things he wasn't supposed to tell her, things she wasn't supposed to know. And now… now she knew. Now, he didn't even have to tell her a word, he opened the doors of his locked passion, and let himself become something else.

God, how careful he always was, how desperately carefully he tried not to show anything more than a pure physical attraction whenever they were intimate. He was giving his best to keep his bluffing face in those moments, without staring into those fishbowls full with the greenest water, and let her see that thing that he was mortified to expose in front of her.

Yes, the Captain Butler was scared of his wife much more than he loved her. Many times he was wondering what it would be like if he simply told her everything, honestly tell her that he loves her and that he no longer is able to hold that fireball in his stomach protected. It was eating him alive and all the sarcasm, coldness, shrewdness and cautious behavior were no longer his allies.

He was wondering if she would laugh at him? Of course she would.

But what if…? She didn't… Last night she simply rose from the bed and threw herself at him, encouraging him to continue what he started and she was not even slightly bothered to acknowledge that what he was doing to her was bringing her so much pleasure, perhaps like she never felt before.

His own force scared him, almost sobered him up, when he felt how harsh her petite body was trembling under his. God, when she stood up on the bed, he was waiting readily for her to slap him, or scream and run away. Rhett Butler did not expect his wife to surrender to him, let alone jump on him, encouraging him to continue something that was perhaps the roughest passion he ever had with a woman.

Last night, she wasn't just… There wasn't a third person in that bed last night. It was only her and only him, both present, focused and eager to get as close as possible, even if that meant scratching, biting and rhythm that wasn't supposed to take over two people who wore wedding rings.

The hell, he knew how a woman's body reacted to his skills and never once before he cared that much to offer more than just technicalities to the women he was with.

Now, he gave himself. He dived so deep, much deeper than ever, he wasn't able to breathe and the liquor and the passion, her lips and her legs held him trapped to the bottom of that darkness, of which he didn't think how he'd emerge to the surface.

Before, when they would have engage in the marital deeds, he'd have hold her in his arms, feeling her body radiating warmth and softness and he was giving his best not to say anything that wasn't wrapped in his everlasting mask, something that would give off his true emotions.

Now, after several hours of what was the most passionate night for her and the most surrendering night for him, he was just lying in bed, next to her, not holding her or touching her.

The dim candle light was now flickering and he was able to see the nude petite body of his wife, moving slowly in the rhythm of deep slumber breathing. He was just taking in that hazy picture in his brain. She was his, and there was no question about it, but the thought of her dreaming of Ashley Wilkes felt like a sharp stab in his rib.

He exhaled deeply as if he wanted to shake the heavy burden that was slowly building in his stomach. Slowly and as silently as possible, he got out of the bed, found his clothes on the floor, dressed quickly and before he was about to get out of there, he returned above the bed.

She was sleeping on her stomach, one leg slightly tucked under the crumpled sheets,. He saw the trails of his fingers on her waist and thighs – she'd be furious when she sees them, he thought. Her hair was covering her back and neck, and he didn't need to check – he knew that the curly black waterfall was hiding teeth marks and skin that turned purple under his bruising lips.

He took the duvet and gently covered her nude body. And he wanted, he so desperately wanted to lower down and kiss her, but fear paralyzed him and he stood there for a few seconds before he got out of her bedroom.

The chilly air in the hallway waked him up. The dawn was already wrapping the house and soon Mammy will wake up. He needed to get out of there. He simply had to run and hide someplace, because, oh, there will be questions in the morning and he was now shaking.

He run down the stairs, the same stairs that weren't even visible to him last night and which he didn't know how he climbed with her in his arms.

The crispy dawn air and the slow rising of the day cleared his head immediately, and he chuckled lightly.

"You're a coward, Rhett Butler."

He said it out loud for him to hear that, be aware that it's true, not just a random thought that was wandering through his head. He still had time to return and crawl back in the warm bed of his wife, treating his hands with the silky skin of hers, but wasn't able to make himself do it.

He tied the horse in front of Belle's house and got inside.


	3. Chapter 3

_А/N Do yourself a favor, listen to Mad About You by Hooverphonic while reading GWTW fics or the book. Thank you_

The house was quiet and empty, and no girls or gentlemen were anywhere to be seen.

"Rhett?" Belle's drawl and high-pitched voice echoed in the room.

What on earth was he doing in the whore house after, after…? Nothing is holly to you, you varmint, he thought to himself.

"I…I…"

And before he was able to answer, he emptied his guts on the floor. What the hell was this? Rhett Butler vomiting because of liquor?!

No.

He was vomiting because he was disgusted with himself and because he already knew, he won't be able to get out of the brothel for at least one day straight. Oh how he ruined everything, now even though it was still early to go back home, he ruined it, he stained himself simply by stepping in that house, with his wife's scent still all over him.

Belle immediately sent a girl to clean it all up, nothing but liquid, because he barely ate.

"What happened, Rhett? Where were you?"

But he didn't speak, he simply grabbed a bottle, the first that came to his hand, dropped on a chair and started chugging the amber liquid.

"Stop Rhett, what are you doing, you are sick!" Belle was trying to get the bottle out of his hands, but he rose from the chair, towering her and pushed her with his other arm.

"I need a drink."

"What happened to you? You're shivering. Is this…? Is this a scratch on your neck?" She tried to touch the visible nail mark covered with dried blood.

"Don't touch me" he barked louder than he meant.

This wasn't him, the always gallant, always gentle and calm man, who saw a friend in this woman. She didn't deserve to be yelled at, not after that many years of being his mistress, a confidant and a person who knew his deepest secrets.

Even when he started coming back at her house, even after he was barely present during their physical intimacy, she didn't say a word.

She knew, oh how well she knew about the tormented thoughts of the captain.

"I…I…need to drink. I must drink."

And he dragged a few more long sips, emptying the half-full bottle.

Suddenly the old liquor and this one mixed and his consciousness was again crumpled, his vision blurry and his tongue thicker.

"Are you hurt?" Belle was persistent. "You must tell me what happened? Did someone attack you?"

He started laughing quietly, closing his eyes and licking his lips, remembering every moment that happen not that long ago.

"Yes, a cat. A green-eyed cat with sharp claws and teeth like needles. And I let her, I let her mark me, just like I marked her, and she's merciless, never defenseless. She is a cat, a pet that will hurt you no matter how much you love it, I'm telling you. A real cat... Katie Scarlett."

Oh, so that was the reason, Belle thought.

"I thought… you two weren't sharing a bed anymore."

He was intoxicated enough to notice sadness in her voice.

"We don't. This was a birthday special. God damn it" He laughed at himself with pain. "Is there more of this?"

But before Belle was able to tell him that he had enough, he stood up and opened the liquor cabinet, grabbing another bottle, emptying it fast to the middle.

"It saddens me to see you drowning in brandy whatever hurt you so much."

He dropped on the chair again, placing the bottle in front of him, his hands shaking visibly.

"It consumes you, Rhett. You are ill. Look at yourself. Running and hiding from your own wife after…"

"I frightened her. I…I wanted to teach her a lesson and it was…You know nothing…" He said inaudibly, taking another drag, his face aching visibly after he swallowed it.

"Oh, I know nothing? Sure. I know nothing."

"You can't even imagine how it is…"

"What? Getting what you want and not being the way you imagined? Being unable to make your own wife fall in love with you? Why are you so afraid of her? She is your wife, god damn it."

"She was a wife to two other men before. You think she gives a damn about me? If you aren't Mr. Wilkes you don't exist to her."

He took off his coat and unbuttoned the shirt that seemed to suffocate him. The frightened look on Belle's face made him look down his bare chest. Few deep red lines were going all the way down to where his shirt was covering the skin. He opened the ends even more and took it off.

"Oh dear Lord," Belle stood up. "What was happening there?"

He turned around looking for the nearest mirror and she cried. "Your back!"

Four red lines on both sides were dragged, obviously, over and over, from his shoulder blades down to his ribs. And although it didn't hurt, he remembered the stinging he felt just an hour ago when he sneaked out of the bedroom.

"I'll bring a cloth and clean it with some brandy. This looks… oh dear God, she's a monster."

"She simply returned the favor." He mumbled smirking in the mirror to the sight of his torso.

But he didn't want Belle to clean the scratches. He put the shirt on immediately and returned to the chair.

"This is not good, Rhett. Never once in my life have I seen a husband coming physically hurt from his wife. I don't even want to know what was going on… Will you stop drinking?"

"But I have to. I need to. It's just so…"

"What? It's just so…? It's all I hear for ten years from you. Do you know how long time that is?"

If Rhett was sober he would have cut her words, without letting her preaching and digging deeper in his wounds. But he was not capable of anything else, but drinking some more, drinking till passing down in oblivion and the fact that he run away from his own wife, like a coward, like a low life he always despised.

"First it was the fascination with the little girl at the Twelve Oaks, the only good thing that didn't make you bored among those gentlemen and narrow minded fools, ready to die for a Cause that was already dead. If I only knew you'll never stop talking about

her…"

"Remember what I told you?" He smirked, his eyes barely able to stay open. "If she wasn't so shocked when I showed myself in the library, she'd have slapped me or dig her nails in my face. I knew her dirty little secret and had her in my claws even without intention." He chuckled.

"I do remember."

"She didn't even go to rest with the other girls, that's how determined she was to get Ashley Wilkes. Dear God, she must have dressed herself and sneaked out of those bedrooms. I was looking for her among the guests when one of the house darkies mentioned about the afternoon rest. The moment I heard her voice in the library... it was a good day."

He rubbed his hand over his face, massaging the root of his nose.

"I remember. How many times I teased you to go and ask her to marry you."

"My dear, she was nothing but a child, then. Not that I didn't think of that, but I wanted to postpone that for a little later, when she's a bit older…"

"So your passion won't frighten her, as you said. I see it didn't frighten her now. You're a fool Rhett Butler, after all these years, you are only brave to tell her half of the things you feel, and only when you are on a safe distance, before leaving to war or going sailing.

Just when I remember how crazy joyful you were when you heard she was now living in Atlanta and that her first poor little husband died, not even as a hero, leaving her covered in black crepe and bored to the bones. You remember how determined you were to get as close as possible, even if that meant that you had to endure her aunt's endless babbles. And that hat box you never wanted to open for me when I asked you. I remember when I saw her wearing it proudly a few days later, with her chin up and sassy as if it was a crown. Oh, I remember well. I remember men telling me their wives' gossips about the reckless young widow of Charles Hamilton and how scandalous she was to dance with such a rascal, a varmint and a blockader who offered the craziest amount of money, right before the war when every cent was a fortune. How many times they were judging her for that, as if she didn't have her poor husband six feet under and a little baby at home. She sold herself to the captain, they would tell me, and I could have felt they were jealous of you and your ways."

"Oh that night…" He signed, sliding on the chair, extending his long legs under the table. "She was so and utterly happy. Worried about her reputation, but only briefly, because the music was so sweet and was making her dance till she wasn't able to feel her legs. And her eyes… never leaving mine. And I was holding her so tight, almost indecent, and she was warning me with a laugh that her aunt is fainting, but she loved it and never let herself loose."

Bell got herself a glass and poured it to the top, not because she felt so much like drinking in the dawn, but because she wanted to leave less brandy for him.

"Did you know I left her all alone on the road to Tara? She hated me so much then. I knew she was furious because I was leaving, not because I'd die. I simply left her on the road with a maid, two babies and a woman who was on the edge of death, but I knew she'd make it. You have no idea how many times I have turned on my heel and would have walked a few steps back, and then simply change my mind. Her sobs were echoing behind me for a very long time."

"I remember that night. I thought you'd stay with me, with us, having fun for the last time, before the Yankees destroy this town. When you picked your coat and hat, I knew…"

Suddenly he punched the table with his fist, making the bottle and the glass jump up. Belle didn't react anyhow, she was too numb to be surprised from anything.

"All right now, go home, wash yourself, rest and speak with the missis."

But he ignored her words. Instead, the reminiscence continued, and Bell already knew how this monologue was going.

"Do you remember that night when Frank got killed? Didn't I tell you that I'm about to get married, and you didn't believe me, you didn't know what happened and of course I made it sound as a joke, until it no longer was."

"Does she even have a clue about any of this? Is she aware that whatever you did, you did it for her?"

"She's only aware of money and the blond head of Ashley Wilkes."

"Well maybe it's time to put it in her head and make her come to her senses."

"I tried. Last night."

"Then go back and check if it was successful."

Another long drag from the bottle and it was empty.

Now he wasn't able to sit straight at all, his eyes were constantly closing and opening with pain, his shirt revealing his scratched neck and chest that were rising and falling slowly.

"Caroline, come here!" Belle stood up from her chair. A young girl, perhaps not even in her twenties, slowly dragged her feet down the stairs and immediately went towards her madam who was standing beside the captain. "Help me put him in bed."

But it was impossible to lift him upstairs, so they took him in a salon in the back, where he collapsed on the burgundy ottoman.

"She will never speak to me again" He muttered. "She'll divorce me and take Bonnie away from me. After what I did…"

But Belle was tired of listening; she simply closed the door and went up in her bedroom.

Oh how well she remembered every turmoil of his in the past ten years. She had heard of each at least twice. The moment he mentioned Scarlett O'Hara to her, she knew he was gone. He never truly was there, he never loved her, he never stayed anywhere long enough. He has never, ever named a woman that got his interest, she wasn't even able to recall he ever mentioned another woman to her at all.

Miss O'Hara was then a child and he was hopelessly and irrevocably in love with her. And, for someone as harsh and as painted with mockery as Rhett Butler was, she didn't think he would easily say, confess his love for that girl. But he did. He said it, more than once, to her, a whore and a woman who, no matter how impossible it was, loved him and respected him, as if he was her husband.

It was a pain to see this man who was always ready for life, how slowly dying on the inside.

Belle knew that he teased the arrogant Miss O'Hara to become his mistress, without even having the intention to compromise her that way, without even wanting to leave her or use her, just like he was leaving every time his needs were fulfilled in her brothel.

Belle knew about Scarlett's proposal in the jail and how mad with anger he was, for fear that she'd go and offer the same thing to the next varmint with some cash. She remembered how furiously he was shaking the bars in the improvised jail, trying to escape, not because he was afraid to be hanged, but because he wanted to get her those damn three hundred dollars, and keep her safe and away from possible men that wouldn't think twice to hurt her.

She remembered perfectly well how drunk he got the night he learned that she married that old crow Frank Kennedy and how he laughed with pain when he was throwing the glasses at the mantelpiece in her bedroom. "Just like she did" he was repeating, although Belle didn't know what he was talking about. She remembered perfectly well how scarily violent he was with her that night, but she didn't acknowledge it because he was after all a customer, who was paying for what he was getting. She knew perfectly well that he had to get that anger out of him somehow, even though he wasn't hurting her, he made it look like a punishment. Belle knew the anger must leave his body so he could be perfectly calm, sure in himself and put his favorite mask with a mocking smile, for the next day when he sees the young bride of Frank Kennedy. That smile was something that was fooling many people including his now wife.

And when finally, the old Frank died, Rhett jumped into the darkness with his head first.

Belle Watling knew her place in the life of Rhett Butler, and in the life of many other men who were passing through her bed. She knew many secrets, many things that weren't supposed to come out of anyone's mouth, but, still, were so recklessly told among her pillows.

After almost two days of Rhett sleeping and drinking in her parlor, incoherently mumbling things to himself, she decided that she no longer was going to take it.

She hid the liquor and forced him to wash, shave, dress up and go back home. To her surprise he listened to her. Her heart was stinging, she wanted that man near her, but she knew well – he could have come and go hundred times, but he would go back home one hundred and one times. Back home, to her.

The early morning crispy breeze was chilling his face and his mind was working faster than ever.

What if… what if she doesn't show up for breakfast? What if the passion she responded with is now fainted and sobered? What if she locks her door again? What if… what if she laughs at him, lifting her chin up, telling him that no masculine force of his could ever move Ashley Wilkes out of her head? That last thought made him shiver; he trembled with fear. He stopped the horse several blocks before their house and stood there, at Peachtree Street, collecting himself, his thoughts, his posture and above all, his heart.

Drinking at Belle's and babbling things that weren't supposed to come out of his mouth was one thing. That woman was a dark cave, nothing was coming out of her. But, what she said? To tell his own wife how he felt?

Oh, no. No, no. He wasn't ready to jump off of that cliff.

He tied the horse at the back and walked into his house, feeling how his heart was going to betray him any minute. His legs were carrying him upstairs to her room.

Trembling with fear, he collected himself, stood up straight and, well, if he for a brief moment wanted to end his agony and simply tell her that he loved her and… no, that desire left him, when he saw her putting on her bonnet, dressed up and ready to leave for the sawmills.

"Oh, hello", he waved from the door. No other word could possibly come to his mind.

"Where-where have you been?" There was something in her voice, not cold, but something else, warmer, almost worrying like.

The words were flooding out of him, the mocking smile shielding his face and a little triumph was taking over him when he told her that he had been at Belle's.

He wasn't able to stop even after he saw how the little smile on her face when he showed up was slowly turning into horror and sadness. It was physically painful to see how disgust was taking over her face. Rhett was able to see her breaking in front of him, but it was too late now. He said it already. He said it all wrong. He wanted to hurt her, to insult her and he succeeded.

Not a single word he said sounded as if he was lying. Excellent work - another lie, another deceit, another ruined chance. She didn't come to him, she didn't hug him, she didn't… of course, she couldn't do it, when he said all those nasty words.

"You went to her from me, after, after…"

It took her exactly three fast steps to pass across the room after he mocked her calling her a deceived wife. She was in front of him, eyes blurred with tears and a sharp, loud and very painful slap echoed in the bedroom.

If she only knew that a hurricane force was pushing him forward to her, but there was a wall, a bastion of pride in front of him that was so strong and hard for ruining. If she only knew that he was at mercy at the two forces, crushing like a glass.

As he was returning his head towards her, something masochistic in him made him smile.

He simply walked out of her room and with fast pace went to his own. He locked the door and placed his palm over his slapped cheek.

There wasn't even time for thinking or realizing what happened, for a loud and persistent knock turning into banging interrupted his thoughts. She stood there, for the first time since they moved in that huge house. She came to his door. And she was ready to fight some more.

God, how beautiful she looked when she was infuriated. Her eyes were even greener, her chest was lifting fast and her face was flushed red with rage. She was clenching her jaw and if she was about to slap him again, he was ready to allow it.

"You filthy varmint, you cad! I…I…" she was tormenting herself, trying to stop what was about to come out of her mouth. "I forbid you to see that woman!"

He heard those words and he understood them, but somehow he was still wondering whether she said them or he simply imagined that.

"Forbid me?!" He didn't mean to say it with such enthusiasm. "My my, my pet. How can you forbid me anything?" He grinned, showing his teeth to her, the same teeth he was sinking into the soft flesh that was now carefully covered with velvet and silk and just the thought of that, boiled something in the lower part of his stomach. How he wished to see his marks on her skin now.

"I don't want you to see her anymore and disgrace me and this family like that. It's enough that the town already talks."

"But you know how little I care about what they say."

"I know, I assume you forgot that sooner than you think, Bonnie will understand about your frequent visits of that woman."

He chuckled lightly, as if though what she was saying was the silliest thing, but he knew that she was right.

"Don't worry about Bonnie; till she grows up sufficiently to understand things, her father will come to his senses."

"If not for Bonnie, then for m…" and she stopped right before she even finished the last word. Her eyes widened with surprise with how little control she had over herself when she was angry.

He was staring at her face, soaking in the picture – his wife crying like a child, because… Could it be? He was now smirking and it felt so good, so healing, he was almost ready to fall at her knees and hug her, burring his head in her skirts. But he remained cold, and unbothered, only physically.

"Well, well, dare I assume I hear the bitter sound of jealousy taking over you Mrs. Butler? God almighty, I never thought it could happen for anyone other than your precious Ashley.

Why, why on earth did he have to mention that creature again? Why was this habit so much stronger than him? Why did he have to put him under her nose even when she wasn't mentioning him?

The little flame of hope from earlier was slowly getting suffocated just from the very thought of Ashley Wilkes.

But, her face, her tight jaw and her teary eyes that were persistently darting him, were something else, something he didn't and wasn't able to predict.

"I said what I had. I forbid it and if I ever suspect you're there, I'll… I'll…" He was able to see that she was fighting a demon inside, something as dark as the one that was forcing him to defend himself with sarcasm and mentioning Ashley Wilkes. "I will come there and drag you out myself."

She turned on her heel and run down stairs, through the door and out of the house.

God, how he wished she stayed. His strength was now back and he would gladly tease the hell out of her about reputation and what her mother would say if she was still alive just by knowing that she stepped a foot into a brothel. But he could only thank god she wasn't in front of him, because her words were a door slightly opening and leading him towards that light he so desperately wanted to see in her eyes. It was good she wasn't there, because the Captain Butler knew for sure he would have find a way, a crazy way to ruin what was the best morning in his life, if he wasn't counting their first morning as husband and wife.

A lazy smirk spread on his face and he closed the door, changing his mind of going to Charleston.


	4. Chapter 4

**_A/N Thank you for the reviews, they mean a lot to me. I love to see that people share my love for this story and characters and GWTW in general._**

 _ **Feel the vibe, feel the terror, feel the pain, it's driving me insane, I can't fake, for God's sake why am I driving in the wrong lane**_ _ **(Mad About You – Hooverphonic)**_

She rode the entire way from home to the store, letting tears roll and burn her face, without carrying whether people saw her, without bothering to even respond to their greetings, or worrying if they'll think or talk that she was now the embarrassed adulterer. In fact, she didn't even hear their words, nor did she care about anyone. Her right palm was still burning from the slap and she hoped that she only hit him strong enough to hurt him at least physically.

 _"_ _You're mine! Never forget that!"_

 _"_ _Where else would I be? I hope you haven't worried about me."_

She stopped the horse in the middle of the street suddenly, because the reminiscence of his words from that night and this morning of made her so sick and she threw up the little biscuit Mammy forced her to eat.

Two full days she was roaming the house like a ghost, barely being present, arguing with people who were coming in the store, unable to think clearly about anything but him, and the varmint had the decency to brag that he went at the brothel.

Her stomach was clenching and the gag reflex was so strong and so painful that even after emptying her stomach, she was still hanging with her head over the carriage, too weak to raise her body and continue the ride. Whether people saw her or not, she couldn't possibly care.

She continued the road looking with empty eyes in the horses' backs.

One thought was only floating behind the green eyes – what he did three days ago, meant nothing to him. A common habit of a scoundrel, a rascal, a disrespectful cad, an ill-bred man, and she dared to let herself think that he loved her. What he did to her was a common habit he did to every whore that was paid to warm his bed, and she… She did it so eagerly and with so much desire that it made her feel ashamed, even more than that day at the library at the Twelve Oaks, even more poisonous than that day at the improvised jail with Ellen's curtain wrapped around her starving body.

She let herself believe that he loved her, that his jealousy and passion mixed because he cared, because he finally snapped and was no longer capable to hide everything under the nonchalant manor. She let herself believe that he loved her when they got married, seeing that unity as the only way to get her, a thought that was flattering her in the past years even when she was locking her bedroom door at night. How stupid was she to believe that a man with the appetites of Rhett Butler could possibly love one woman and could possibly be satisfied with one woman. And why would he be, when he was paying to get female bodies and their low inhibitions without any shame and under bright lights.

When she stopped in front of the store and went inside, she was thanking God in whom now she barely believed that she was alone, for it was early morning and only a few people could be seen on the streets.

She thought that the greatest embarrassment of her life happened three days ago when he forced her to wear the most indecent dress she had in her wardrobe, something he insisted on tailoring, while they were still in New Orleans, a dress that never got its chance to wrap her frame because shortly after she found out that she was with a child.

No, none of the eyes of the invited guests at the birthday party were causing her this feeling of shame and regret, feeling as if though she was a worthless piece of meat that was used only because her husband was sufficiently drunk and unable to visit the brothel that night.

Her lower lip was trembling and her closed eyes were flooding her face with tears.

He sneaked out of her bed, of their bed, and went straight to that creature, that he dared to compare with her, calling her, the better investment.

If she only didn't react at all, if she only didn't slap him or say those words to him, if she only was capable to collect herself and remain cold and unbothered. Oh God, if they only didn't meet this morning, everything would have been better.

The sobs were now suffocating her and she wasn't able to breathe, so instinctively her hands dragged the collar of her dress down, but it didn't help. Air was barely reaching her lungs.

What made her giggle like a bride and made her anxious to see him, was now making her sick to her stomach. Any hope any joyful thought she had about Rhett loving her was now stinging her eyelids.

A customer walked in the store and if he didn't ask her several times if she was all right, Scarlett wouldn't have even hear him.

"Yes, I'm all right, I am a under the weather, that's all." She was trying to swallow down the remaining tears and sobs and sound proper and decent. And although it seemed like a plausible lie, the face of the older gentleman changed and she caught his eyes escaping immediately from her slightly open collar, when she realized…

She immediately covered her neck with her palm, making sure to place the collar back. Of course, she forgot that now her neck looked like a geographic map and had several plum-like marks, that didn't seem to fade away even after three days. Without a doubt this older gentleman saw it and once he was done with his purchase, it dawn on her – without a dobout, everybody will think that Mrs. Butler's bruised neck was the deed of the ever so decent Mr. Wilkes, but of her husband.

Ashley.

All of this happened because of him. Poor, sweet Ashley, now felt like a distant dream, a person she never knew, a person she couldn't even think about at this moment. She was sure he wasn't even capable to think of something like that, let alone do it, no matter how much passion was once there between them.

Or, so she thought.

Even in their most passionate kiss in the orchard, his ministrations were those of a gentleman. She had to make the advantage, to push herself to him, to kiss him, to hug him and even then he seemed like she was giving him a poisonous apple, not herself.

Remembering that day caused nothing to her. Nothing at all, for she wasn't able to think of anything else now. Nothing mattered anymore.

The rage and the embarrassment and the fear after she exposed her neck to a customer, were suffocated by one much stronger feeling – despise of Ashley Wilkes and her stubbornness to be around him and have him.

What has ever Ashley Wilkes done for her? It was always her initiating, pulling the hard rope, begging and begging for attention he was so scared to give, crying and almost selling her virtues to protect her home so they could all have a roof over their heads. Even a few days ago, he celebrated his birthday as if it was his last, avoiding her, barely speaking and letting his wife get them out of the gutter.

Swallowing hard, her thoughts were threatening to crack her skull. It seemed that all the love she ever believed she felt for Ashley was no longer there. She didn't even care to see him. If she even had to see anyone, it was Melanie, for she wanted so desperately to explain to her that nothing, truly nothing happened between them.

Her stomach was still upset, her entire body fighting to remain on her feet, and yet her mind was not stopping its thoughts. She wasn't even able to quiet it down and order it to think about it tomorrow.

She was so deluded with the sawmills and the store and Ashley Wilkes, that not even once she thought that Rhett might be going to that woman more often than she dared to think.

If she was honest with herself, she hardly ever thought that he was visiting her after their marriage. She hated her since the war, since the day Melanie showed her the handkerchief with gold she gave her and saw Rhett's initials on it. If then her stomach was clenching, now it was twisted in a fire knot.

"I should not have banished him from my bed." She whispered, staring in an empty space, semi-aware that such thoughts were not suitable with her rage and her humiliation from this morning.

So that was all about – he saw her as an investment.

He built her a house, paid the bills, paid for the clothes and the horses, and all the nice things in between, but marrying her, Scarlett O'Hara, was nothing but an investment to him. Another brothel, more decent and with her only, the only way to get what he always wanted; a brothel whose work went wrong so instead to close it, he decided to simply abandon it.

The only reason he didn't do the same with that woman, was because she was publicly known for her services, and no matter how much he didn't care about reputation, it would have been the last straw even for him.

A new wave of tears blurred her eyes, another pain crashed her chest and she dropped on the floor behind the counter and sobbed and sobbed and sobbed, until one of the clerks opened the front door of the store.

She wiped the tears off her face, giving her best to push away the thoughts and dissolve the heavy rock that was pressing her intestines. Immediately, she went to the back of the store and avoided seeing people for the rest of the day.

 _I shall never speak to him again, I shall never look him in the eye, I shall never remain in the room once he enters it. I will get Bonnie to my room and will teach her that Daddy is mean. If I suffer, he'll suffer too._

So, he made a drunken advantage on her and she enjoyed it, but he will never once again see her like that – eager, spellbound and without clothes. From now on, he will truly learn what a cold wife means, even if that would make him divorce her.

She was usually going home an hour or two before the main meal, but that day she had no strength to move, let alone feel hunger. She didn't go to the mills, nor did she care who was coming in the store, letting the clerks do their business.

It was dark when she opened the door, becoming a victim of the same feeling of weakness from the morning. Her empty stomach was now protesting with loud sounds, her arms and legs did not feel under her control and the unsteady breathing was causing her to see white circles in front of her eyes.

A few deep inhales, as much as the corset was allowing, helped her remain strong on her feet, and when she closed the door, she realized that the home was very quiet.

The large clock above the stairs showed almost nine in the evening, and she knew that the children were already in bed. The dining room was empty and none of the servants could be seen.

"Captain Butler ain't here, Miz Scarlett" Mammy's voice echoed coming from the kitchen. "You ain't here. Ah fed the children and they now sleep."

But Scarlett barely listened once Mammy informed her that Rhett wasn't in the house.

"Did Captain Butler say where he was going?"

Mammy groaned and turned her back, going back to the kitchen, mumbling that she prepared dinner for her and she should eat it before it's cold.

Sharp, fast and deep inhales were piercing Scarlett's lungs and even though she didn't want to, her legs were leading her to his bedroom.

She didn't bother to knock, but opened the door furiously, only to find Bonnie sleeping in her cradle, sucking her thumb and hugging a new doll.

"Mother" the child mumbled in her sleep, giving a little smile before she turned to the other side.

"Sleep darling" she whispered and kissed her head.

Quietly she walked out of the room and closed the door.

But as she walked towards her bedroom, the Irish genes of Gerald lit and she no longer was able to rein the rage and the behavior that used to make her mother sad.

She rushed down the stairs and didn't even bother to close the door behind her.

Before she knew she was whipping the horses' backs. Hair was falling around the sides of her face and on her forehead, and what was carefully wrapped in the hair net was now bouncing on her back. The anger was colliding with the speed of the carriage that was causing almost earthquake noise on the muddy streets.

"I swear to God, I swear to God…" she was practically standing in the carriage, as the horses were running towards Belle Watling's house.

She didn't know how she found herself at the doorstep, nor did she know if she ever thought about what she was about to do.

No, Mrs. Butler was furious and ready to enter the one place she truly was disgusted off.

She was banging on the door with one hand twisted in a punch and slapping the wooden surface with the other palm.

The door was opened by a confused face, a girl not that much younger than Scarlett, dressed in a dress that was barely covering her décolletage. The young yet tired face was plastered with rouge, making her look like a porcelain doll. Her strawberry blonde hair was loosely hanging all over her shoulders, and Scarlett couldn't help but think that she dared to open the door after jumping out of a bed.

She heard laughter and incoherent sounds that were coming from the inside and only then did she wake up from the trans. She was at the door step of a brothel and before she could speak or turn around and leave, Belle showed at the door.

"Inside!" She commanded the young whore. "May I help you?" Belle exposed herself at the door frame and blocked her view of the interior.

Scarlett was standing so close to her for the first time in her life. Her face was heavily covered with powder and the rouge on her lips and her cheeks was truly applied in a manner that was, as people were saying, suitable with her occupation. She was quite tall and had large breasts, rounded arms and neck that was already showing signs of aging. The corset of the dark pink dress was not capable to fit the wide waist and the little rose buds that were sewn on it were only making the bust larger.

Her eyes narrowed and the skin around them wrinkled when she soaked in the green eyes of the Captain's wife.

Scarlett wasn't able to find a single word in her mind to say anything, yell or argue with this woman. She was taken aback from her physique although she had seen her many times on the streets, always on a decent distance.

"What's wrong? Rhett…? Even though she seemed stone cold and very dominant, something in her voice changed when she asked the question.

Oh, she took the liberty to call him by his name and that was the last drop for Scarlett's endless day.

"Tell him to come out, this instant!" Scarlett commanded as if she was talking to one of the prisoners that were working in her sawmills. Her voice was harsh, steady and flat, something that surprised her, believing that she went mute once Belle showed up.

"Oh my…" Belle closed the door behind her. "Look at this little furious cherry" she looked down at Scarlett. Her face was strict and unamused, as if a child banged on her door and she was ready to scold her. "What could possibly strike the Captain's wife set a foot on my porch? Aren't you a piece of work?"

Scarlett's empty mind was only able to recognize the words, for the heavy load of adrenaline in her body was as strong, if not stronger than that night when she fired the bullet in that Yankee's face. Nothing mattered, nothing was important, nothing was scaring her, certainly not this woman that was towering her and that was addressing her as if she was the filthy one, knocking on her door to steal her husband.

"I am not allowing anyone to disturb my guests and I certainly wouldn't break my rule for you… Mrs. Butler." She emphasized the last word with sassiness and disgust.

Just as Scarlett tried to walk pass her, Belle put one arm over the door frame and towered her.

"Go home, Mrs. Butler. This isn't a place for a fine woman like you. You surely don't want some of the gentlemen to see you here? It's not that I care about you, but I certainly care about the Captain and I wouldn't want them to tease him about you coming here. Turn around and go home. He's not here."

Oh… oh the shame that was now shaking her core. Shame and rage, mixed with the urge to cry and pull the red hair of this creature that welcomed him just hours after…after…

And Scarlett obeyed, making a couple of steps on the porch before the O'Hara genes flamed up again and she turned around.

"Next time he comes over, and I will know, I will burn this place to the ground!" She hissed. One dark eyebrow lifted dangerously and the glassy green eyes' pupils widened, jaw clenched harder than ever. Although Belle didn't show any sign of fear, the determined rage of the words spoken with the rosy mouth, made her step back.

Her little feet were running towards the horse as Belle's cackling was echoing in her ears.

Oh how he'll pay her for this, she'll dig his eyes out for this. And she was almost convinced that he was standing behind the door, laughing at her, laughing together with that creature after she left.

She was crying out loud all the way home, not even carrying if anyone saw her or heard her. She has fallen lower than she ever could have imagined, and the sweet, gentle face of Ellen was now taking her mind, for the first time after a long time.

Оnce she was in the safe darkness of the stable, she lowered her head on the horse's and cried and cried, almost as loud and as inconsolable as Bonnie whenever she'd have woken up in the darkness.

"I can't stay not even for one glass, sweetheart. I have been absent all day long, I don't want Bonnie to wake up and cry for me. What I came for is…" he took a key out of his pocket and placed it on the table. "…this. I don't know why I still have it, so I'm returning it."

Belle was sitting in front of her mirror, looking at his reflection. It seemed as if he wasn't the same man from the morning. His eyes were livelier, his talk more enthusiastic and the smile, which although was always present on his face, now seemed to be genuine.

"Something happened in the Butler's nest" she said matter-of-factly.

He didn't have to say anything, for the smirk on his face was louder than words.

"My child needs a father who is there, fresh and sober. Also, I think it's time for me to collect myself and quit some old habits."

He walked towards the door but stopped when Belle started speaking.

"Send my love to Mrs. Butler."

"I'm sure she'd be glad to hear that." He chuckled lightly. "You sure are her favorite person lately."

"So favorite, that she came over to threaten me."

Although he was out of the room with one foot, Belle's words stopped him and he returned.

"What did you say?"

"Your wife is a spitfire, I have to admit that. She was here, several hours ago. She almost knocked down the front door. She was looking for you. Don't worry, I didn't let her in, I protected her chastity and kept her away from people seeing her… Because of you, not because of her.

I don't know what have you done to make her come over, but I have to admit, this is the first time to see such thing, and I know women who know about me being a friend of their husbands - always embarrassed, always mortified when they see me on the street. Not her. She threatened me."

She was seeing his surprise turn into a little smirk and then into a joyful smile.

"Just so you know - if you ever find this house burned to the ground, it's because your not so sweet wife learned that you were here."

The tight hug and the light kiss he pressed on her cheek hurt her, but she didn't say anything, because no matter what she had to say, the Captain Butler wouldn't have listened. He was already outside and in better mood than she was ever able to recall. Funny how she promised herself not to tell anything, and yet, she didn't stay true to herself. She cared more about him being happy even if that meant that he'd never return to her place.

The house was quiet and completely sunken in darkness, so he made sure his entrance wouldn't cause any sound as it was already one in the morning.

Many times he was returning home late, allowing his eyes to fly over the burgundy staircase, over the clock and finally landing at the door of his wife's bedroom. Only, this time, his chest weren't heavy, his heart wasn't sad and his eyes weren't stinging.

He locked the door and leaned on it, feeling joy like he never felt for years. The smirk was not leaving his face.

Scarlett O'Hara's determination and stubbornness were the traits that fascinated him from the first day he saw her. She wasn't the one to give up, to lower her head or not do what she said she would. She didn't find him at home when she returned and allowed the fury to push her towards the whore house.

He imagined her riding madly across Atlanta, determined to find him there and drag him out. He tried his best to suffocate his chuckle. How he needed news like these? This was so good, almost better than when she accepted his marriage proposal.

Aimlessly riding the horse on the outskirts of Atlanta in order to stay away from the Wilkes' household and break the neck of Ashley turned out to be the smartest thing he had done in years. He didn't know how many times he rode up and down Peachtree Street, imagining hurting the fragile and pale neck of Mr. Wilkes, but Miss Mellie's face and gentle voice were constantly in the back of his mind. What wouldn't have he done to him if Melanie wasn't his wife.

Not even the passionate night, or Scarlett's unattainable jealousy, could stop the rage caused from Archie's words – _You should kill Mrs. Butler for adultery._

The aimless riding cleared his head, his thoughts, his lungs and his blood.

He felt like singing and shouting and waking up everyone in the house, because what Belle told him meant only one thing – his wife was jealous.

This joy that was making him feel lighter and more eager for life than ever, was nearly as vigorous as the one he felt when Bonnie was born.

 _Bonnie, dear god,_ it was long past midnight, and he rushed upstairs to check the child. She was peacefully sleeping, but the candles were already burned, and the gas lamps weren't giving enough light to prevent her possible crying had she woken up.

So, he hurried down stairs to get more candles and once he climbed the last step, the door from across opened and a dim light caught his pupils.

She was standing at the door frame, a sweet silhouette of a woman wrapped in a wrapper, curves visible to his eyes even in the pale light, long curls hanging down and hands clutching the little waist.

"You!"

Her husky voice was loud enough for him to hear anger and rage that was threatening to explode.


	5. Chapter 5

**_A/N If you only knew how much I enjoy writing these two idiots. I don't know whether it's the final chapter, but let's leave it open for more, for now. Thanks for reading and reviewing! 3_**

"Mrs. Butler?! Why aren't you sleeping?" Oh, he knew perfectly well why she was awake and if he was honest with himself, he simply knew she'd be awake and ready for a quarrel. Going at Belle's must have boiled her blood and he was anxiously curious to hear it from her. He'd die to hear the details coming out of her mouth. A wild joy was vibrating through his body and he was second guessing his intention to simply go forward and kiss her, kiss her as gently and as passionately, like there is no tomorrow, like she has granted him liberty and life after death sentence.

"Light the candles for Bonnie and I expect a conversation. In my room!" She sounded serious and strict and very distant but Rhett was ready for whatever weapon she was ready to attack him with.

He quickly lit the candles and went to her, without even removing his coat.

She was still waiting at the door frame, hands now crossed over her chest, blocking the light of her bedroom with her body.

"What is so urgent that can't wait till tomorrow, Mrs. Butler?" Fully aware that his voice was mocking and a little too nasty, he got in front of her, looking down until she raised her head and looked back.

"Where have you been?" Her voice was questioning and harsh, and he realized that this was going to be a long night. He was prepared and ready for everything. The only thing that was difficult for him was hiding the smirk on his face, which this time was caused by pure pleasure of learning that his wife snapped and went looking for him. Oh how he wanted to tell her that it meant more than anything in the world knowing that she went at Belle's with just one intention – getting him back home.

"Riding" his voice was cheerful.

"Is that so? Riding till one o'clock after midnight?" She hissed.

"I enjoy clearing my head when the streets are empty, Mrs. Butler. You have any more questions?"

"You seem a little too content after riding across town in ungodly hours. As if you've been…"

"Oh, at Belle's you mean." He chuckled. He was able to see her anger rising from the heels of her feet, up through her chest and almost exploding on her face. She was trying her best to remain calm, but he knew his wife a little too good, to know that her eyes were always betraying her.

"How dare you, after I forbid it!"

He started chuckling again, trying his best to suffocate the sound as much as possible, for the house was in deep slumber."

"My dear, don't you know that if you forbid me such thing I _must_ get something in return?" His left hand tried to remove a curl that was falling over her face, but she blocked his touch by lifting her right arm and smacking it to the side. "If you want me to quit visiting that house, which I believe you already saw wasn't so bad, you'll have to stop denying me the warmth of your bed and your charms."

Lightly he turned on his heel, fully aware that his nonchalance was already making her boil. He was barely half-way to his bedroom, when Scarlett run after him and started smacking him with her little fists all over his back.

"You cad, you devil…" She was sobbing and smacking, crying and cursing, not carrying whether anyone could hear or wake up. "After everything you did…people seeing purple marks on my neck, you varmint…"

Rhett was taken aback from this unexpected development. He certainly didn't think she would explode like that. In one fast movement he swiped her in his arms, lifting her only a little bit from the floor, pushing her towards her bedroom, while she was kicking and biting his hands, muffled curses and cries escaping her mouth.

With her in his arms, he went step backwards to close the door, preventing the scene to escalate and disturb the dream of the children.

"I'll put you down Mrs. Butler only if you calm down." He was squeezing her hard, holding her in his big arms, limiting her liberty as if she was in a cage. But, Scarlett wasn't planning to stop. Still kicking with her legs, although mostly in air, she was trying to let loose every way that she could.

The floodgates were now open.

"Put me down or I'll scream so loud, Mammy will come up immediately."

And he loosened his grip, allowing her feet to touch the ground. The moment she stood on her legs, she collected more strength and managed to get out of his arms.

"So you stayed true to your words, Mrs. Butler? You went to see the inside of Belle's house? Did you like it?" His sarcasm was now painful and he knew that he was crossing the red line. He instantly regretted the question.

She was panting and darting him with her pale green eyes, which he was now able to see were quite bloodshot and a little puffy from crying.

"Was she a good host?"

What was he doing? Why he was hurting her even more, when all he wanted was to take her in his arms and hug her, hug her until she stops crying and till her breathing takes a normal rhythm again.

"I told you not to, and you still went there…" She swallowed the hard stone in her throat and tried her best to calm down her voice.

"I think it seems convenient for a cheated husband to seek a little consolation in such house." He showed his white teeth in a wide smile that seemed to add more oil to the fire.

"You know you aren't a cheated husband, you cad!"

"Aren't I?" Now he was no longer smiling, his voice was no longer enriched with mockery, but a deep and angry mix of sorrow and pain.

"How many times did I beg you to allow me explain that day?"

"What's to explain, my pet? I said I know you were physically faithful to me. As far as I'm concerned you can sleep in different bed every night, only if I had your…" He stopped. He felt that he was dangerously close to the edge and even now, he was afraid to jump down. "Now tell me, did you like Belle's house?"

Her chest started trembling visibly, unable to remain calm and steady, and as it happens with children, that trembling manifested in a shaken lower lip and tears, a sea of tears on her face. She started hitting his arms and chest again, but no matter how hard she tried she knew she wasn't truly hurting him.

"You cad…" Smack. "You evil creature…" Smack. "You nasty and disgusting man…" Smack. "How could you lead me thinking that you went there…" Smack. "Make me go to that place…" Smack. "Disgrace me like that?!" Smack.

He wasn't even trying to defend, all he had to do was lift his arms and her attempts to hit him were futile. He was now laughing.

"Darling, I didn't make you do anything. It was your rich Irish genes and your short temper that drove you there, when in fact I was clearing my mind, riding."

"Then how do you even know I went there?" She was still smacking his arm, crying and trembling like a child.

"Oh that…"

"Yes, that…" Her arms were now tired, but she was not quitting the attack.

"I went to leave my key."

She stopped and looked at him quizzically, tears still streaming down her pale face. Her hands and arms were hurting now, and she lazily dropped them by her sides.

"Now seriously… What on earth were you thinking when you went there? Have you ever considered not following your impulses for once? Are you even aware… thank god she didn't let you in, I'd have strangled her..." He stopped and made a step towards her, unable to ignore her tears that seemed to fall in endless waterfalls.

No, this wasn't crying out of spite and because things weren't her way. It seemed like something deeper, more painful, sadder than he ever witnessed.

"Were you laughing at me? With her?" She had a hard time saying the words, for the knot in her throat seemed to be suffocating her.

The Captain heard the question but was too astonished to comprehend that her darling little head was capable of thinking something like that.

"Were you?" She cried. New wave of rage flushed over her body and she threw herself at him, screaming and hitting his chest with fists. "I can't take this anymore. You of all the people… "

He grabbed her hands in his and squeezed them until she was no longer able to move or hit him.

"You're acting like a child when a toy is being denied, my pet." But the smile on his face was forced, because he no longer felt cheered and amused.

"I am a child. I am a child." She was crying. "I can't… Can't you see it? Everything was taken away from me. Can't you see that I'm in constant pain for years? First my mother, then Tara, and Pa, and being hungry, and the old days, and my carefree girlhood and my dresses and, and…" She was sniffing and sobbing, almost hiccuping, a wave of fatigue crashing her body, face and eyes and she was no longer giving her entire force to get rid of his grip. Only now she was truly capable to acknowledge her grief that was building in her chest for years.

"And Charles and Frank? Ashley?" He tried hard to sound cheerful and make her sadness go away like he used to, but even he didn't believe in his forced mockery.

"I'm tired and you…" Her voice was quiet now. "I can't take it anymore and I'm not that strong, I'm not strong at all and a varmint you like continues to mock and laugh at me after…Just because you heard what I said to him years ago in the library... I can't take your punishing anymore…"

Once the words were said he broke - the sardonic shield cracked into million pieces and he let her hands loose. He grabbed her for her shoulders, pressing her on his chest, until she sunk into his torso, muffled sobs ending into his heart.

In those years of craving her presence and physically dying every time he'd have seen her with old Frank by her side, in those years while he was running away, sailing and finding temporary joy in several beds, trying to soothe his heart every time he'd think of her obsession with Wilkes, he forgot one thing – his wife's childhood was abruptly aborted first by her own spiteful nature, then by the war. He was seeing her as someone who was capable to endure anything without breaking at all, and somewhere on that road he forgot that, after all, in those fragile hours of the night, she was just the same sad little girl from Twelve Oaks that was only now getting her first bitter taste of actual maturing.

"From all the people…" She sobbed again. "From everyone I know, you were the only one to allow me speak my mind out, to be who I was, even while mocking me and making me laugh, and now you're gone. Have I known this would happen I wouldn't have marry you, Rhett. I lost the only person who was seeing the real me without trying to bring me to my senses."

He closed his eyes with pain, a bitter grimace covered his face, fully aware how closer they used to be in the years when she was making herself stand on her feet. Not in his wildest frustration and longing for her, did he think that things between them could become this painfully difficult.

"About Ashley…" He begun, and that name worked like a spear in her chest. She wriggled out of his arms and her face was now vile.

"Damn it with Ashley already!"

He certainly wasn't aware what her words meant but before he was able to speak again and made another attempt to bring her back to his arms, she pushed him away.

"I am tired of Ashley Wilkes. Nothing… nothing is like before, not him, not me, and certainly not what I thought…what I thought I felt about him. He comforted me as a friend the other day. He's so lost in the past and the old days, that managed to drag me down and I don't want to be dragged down, not after everything I've been through. I thought he was the only thing that was keeping me connected with the old days, with Mother and Pa, Tara and my childhood…and now he's gone. He's been gone for years. I feel nothing. Not even mercy, nothing - maybe a little irritation when he barely works and just a little sadness for his inability to adapt. And what India and Archie saw was a mere hug of two people who are so distant and so aware of that… But that old hag hates me, so now everyone thinks… And you're constantly mentioning him, always cutting me with your mockery, before I am able to to tell that I no longer love him. Perhaps never have, at least not till recently, when I realized I love… Why did you even marry me, Rhett? Was this another challenge for you? Another pass time? The only way to have me at your mercy? Why did you marry me when you… when you never truly abandoned that woman?"

The storm that was building in him with every word she said through tears was now dangerous and the tornado in his chest swept everything that used to shield him from his wife, so he put his large hands on each side of her cheeks, fingers wrapping at the back of her head, tangling in the thick dark curls.

"I'd have never even think of another woman have you not banished me from this sanctuary of yours!"

His voice was rough, deep and quieter, and he was now resting his forehead on hers, inhaling fast and short.

"Don't you understand? I'd have never even look at her or any other, have you given me half a chance, a sign that you wanted me here. I'd have… I'd cut my heart for you to wear it if you want to, Scarlett."

He was shaking as the storm from inside was cracking through his bones and fear prevailed through her body. Somehow this storm was transferring to her, so she put her hands on his wrists, for she needed to hold on something in order to remain on her feet.

He distanced his forehead from hers, just mere inches, so he could see her eyes and the wet dark eyelashes that were framing them, and she was finally able to see his pain, pure and unshielded, that flickering glimpse that was always confusing her whenever she'd have catch him staring at her. She was finally able to see frustration leaking out of his dark pupils, the same thing that was making her think that he was painfully longing over something for years. She finally understood.

"Did it ever occur to you that I love you as much as a man can love a woman? I loved you for years before I finally got you." The speed of her heart thumping in her chest was the same with her tears drying on her face. "During the war I'd go away, trying my best to forget you, but I couldn't, and I was always coming back. I had no intentions to stay in Atlanta till I heard that you moved here with Miss Mellie and your aunt, and I made up my mind that I will come back as often as possible. I was watching you that night at the bazaar, bored and frustrated wrapped all in black, and once I saw that my teasing wasn't working its magic upon you, I could feel your frustration that you couldn't dance and I had to bid for you, not that I cared that much to invest my money for the Cause. I made up my mind that I will cross your path until… until… After the war I risked arrest, just to come back and find you. I was bribing and cheating those damn Yankees, so I can get out of jail and give you the money you needed for Tara. You have no idea how much I dreaded the thought of you going to someone else and offering yourself for the tax money, I was mad... And then, Frank put his paws on you, or however it happened, damn it… But I couldn't go away, not even when I noticed you were with a child and I knew how stubborn mule you were, eager to work and keep things under control at the mills, so I'd have leave everything I was doing, just to take you for a ride, make you laugh, tease you, make you forget who you were going back home to. I needed your presence like air, no matter who you were going to bed with. I cared so much I believe I'd have killed Frank Kennedy if he hadn't died when he did. I couldn't care less whether I was putting your reputation in the gutter when I proposed, because I was scared you'd go away or marry someone else, before I return from England. In fact I didn't even have to go to England, I just did to avoid possible change of your mind, for I knew you won't change it once I return with a ring… I knew you didn't love me, but I thought… And the other night when I was carrying you upstairs, I thought… I hoped, I hoped so much… but I got scared, I was petrified you'd laugh at me the next morning, so I left your bed, went at Belle's and drank for two days straight, until I wasn't able to think or speak."

"But…" She was now squeezing his wrists, feeling the tremor in his large hands. The dark eyes of Rhett Butler were so full in pain, pain that was finally liberating him. Good God, she was so aware of his shrewd caginess, she could understand him to her core, his obstinate pride that kept him from telling her his true feelings because he was mortified she'd reject him.

"Everything started so good. New Orleans and you being carefree and having fun like I haven't seen you having for years, and I wanted to give you all that, everything, anything that won't put misery in your eyes. And we had a good time, I could tell … I was finally able to awaken your passion and show you that you can enjoy with your husband more than you can imagine and I know that you did.

I knew how much you wanted to be secure with money so I wanted you to have everything and then Bonnie came… and I thought we'll make it…but then you decided… you and Ashley decided that I no longer belonged here, in your bed. How many times I could have strangled his neck, shoot him, let him die while he was up north… but I'd rather have him sewn on your skirt till the rest of his life, than you hating me for that."

"No…" She whispered, rubbing her thumbs over his wrists, never leaving his dark eyes. "It was a mistake…" Her voice was now too tired from crying, she was barely able to find strength to raise it and speak louder. "I regretted saying that I no longer wanted you in my bed the moment I said it and you seemed so unbothered…"

"Unbothered…" He chuckled in pain, bringing her forehead to his lips. "How many times did I tell you that no lock will keep me out have I wanted you… but I never dared to enter this room that way, because I wanted you to want me, to allow me back here and you never did, until the other night and I'm still not sure whether…"

Inhaling his scent of tobacco, horses and cold crispy late winter air, mixed with the soap he was always using, scent that unmistakably reminded her of him, of that day when he was holding her like this, promising that he'll get her to Tara, safe and sound, she remembered how strong his arms felt and how much she wanted to stay there forever. She wrapped her arms around his waist and glued her frame to his. It felt so good, she could have fall asleep on her feet, just by being pressed to his strong chest.

"I don't want a divorce, Rhett." She mumbled in his shirt. "I don't want you going away; I don't want this feeling eating my guts, making me cry till I fall sleep…"

"What do you want, my pet?" He lifted her chin and looked in her eyes, both large thumbs wiping the tears from underneath them.

"I want you."

He kissed each of the wet eyelids gently, the warmth of his lips so soothing on the thin skin.

"My dear, this shattered pride can be a solid base for rebuilding this poor and doomed marriage." The glimpse in his eyes was now lighter, mischievous, and almost reborn.

"I tried to tell you the moment I realized that I love you… I must have loved you for years… since, since, well… since you carelessly spend one hundred and fifty in gold just to give me a few dances… I wasn't able to understand it, I think it dawned on me that afternoon on Ashley's birthday or perhaps when you acted like you didn't give a damn after I said no more babies. I tried to tell you, but you were so nasty, Rhett."

He was hugging her now, so firmly, one arm wrapped around her head, the other around waist, not letting her go, his nose buried in the dark curls, inhaling her scent hungrily. Her little hands were squeezing his lapels and she was leaning on him, as if he was a rock, a large door that was protecting her from the wind.

And just like that with her in his arms, he leaned on the door, slowly gliding on it, landing on the floor, scooping his wife's petite body in his lap, holding her as if she was a child that needed to be taken care of.

He leaned his head, kissing her temple, eyebrows, each eye and her nose, lips ending on hers, in a gentle and warm kiss, nothing like the hungry one from the other night. And he was kissing her and kissing her, small pecks and lazy, languid pressing of lips, as if he was finally able to rest there without feeling that he was intruding a forbidden land. Her little palm was not leaving his face, making sure it always guides him towards her lips.

She was no longer speaking or hiccuping, the heavy burden of sleepless nights already visible on her eyes. Her body was completely relaxed in his arms.

For the first time in a long time Captain Butler's heart wasn't pumping poison in his chest and he was finally able to breathe easily.

"Now what is this, my pet?" He whispered, as he was removing a few curls off her neck, noticing the marking of his lips from the other night. The thought made his lips curve in a malicious and content smirk. Gently touching the marks with the tips of his fingers, he kissed her forehead again.

"Varmint" she mumbled in his cravat.

"I have a few as well, I guess, my loving wife didn't want her husband to feel left out. Had I known what that night would bring, I'd have done it much earlier."

And as she was slowly drifting in a sleep, caused by a fatigue after long crying. In the safety of the Captain's arms, she smiled. As he was pulling the sides of his coat on her bare feet and on her back, she gripped harder on his chest, like she was afraid he'd leave.

"Don't go when I'm asleep", she pleaded.

"Never" He whispered.


End file.
